


Green Means Life

by Anonymous



Category: The Bright Sessions (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Corpse Desecration, Everyone Needs A Hug, Ex Sex, F/F, F/M, Fingerfucking, For Science!, Forced Incest, Fucking a corpse back to life, Healing Sex, Magical Healing Cock, Magical Resurrecting Cock, Mutual Non-Con, Necrophilia, Sibling Incest, Wetting, except Ellie, forced necrophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-23 16:38:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13791759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Owen would do anything for Joan—including fucking her corpse back to life so Mark doesn't have to.





	Green Means Life

When Owen walked into the testing room, he did a double take. He had expected Mark to be restrained in a chair, but Joan was a surprise.

“Oh!” He froze in the doorway. “Joan. What are you doing here?”

“She’s here to get Mark,” Director Wadsworth said. “Come in and close the door.”

Owen did as he was told. He leaned against the wall to watch, already dreading whatever this was all about.

“You said you were going to release him!” Joan protested.

“And we will! We just have one more test for him.”

“Two years is _more_ than enough time for you to do your horrible experiments on my little brother.”

“You didn’t think they were so horrible when we were doing them to someone else,” Ellie said.

Joan pressed her lips together.

“Why is Joan restrained?” Owen asked. “Should I call security?”

“No, that won’t be necessary.” Wadsworth snapped on a nitrile glove. “I just need to do a little prep.”

Owen’s stomach squeezed around itself. “Director?”

“Sorry, Joan.” Wadsworth pushed Joan’s panties aside and slipped two fingers inside her. "It's for your own good."

Joan appeared too shocked to move or speak.

“Stop!” Mark strained at his padded bonds. “Leave her alone!”

“I just need to check… ah, no, we’re good. 'That time of the month' can complicate things. And a little extra lubrication would probably be ideal, now that I think about it.”

She pumped her fingers in and out, seeming to relish Joan’s squirming. Joan regained her senses and tried to close her knees.

“No, Joan. Keep your legs open,” Wadsworth ordered. “You can spread your legs for me voluntarily, or I can tie them to the chair. It’s your choice, Joan.”

Her face burning pink, Joan scowled and left her knees apart. Owen felt his pants growing tighter despite himself. Joan was always so pretty, even with her hair messy and her face angry. As outraged as he was on Joan’s behalf, there was a part of him only capable of recognizing her wetness coating Ellie’s long, gloved fingers... and the sweet, nostalgic scent of her arousal. Ellie’s thumb rubbed Joan’s clit, making her inhale sharply.

“You like that, don’t you?” Ellie cooed, slipping a third finger in.

“I really don’t,” Joan replied.

“Your body says otherwise, Joan.”

“My body has been conditioned to respond that way to penetration. I really wish you’d stop.”

“If you say so.”

Wadsworth pulled her fingers out and stuck them in Joan’s mouth. Joan sucked them clean without being told, glaring up at Ellie all the while. Owen twitched against his zipper. He secretly wished his fingers were the ones in her mouth.

“Good girl.” With that, Ellie’s other hand squeezed either side of Joan’s neck, cutting off circulation.

“Hey!” Mark yelped.

“Director!” Owen crossed the room but then hesitated, afraid to stop Wadsworth. “What are you doing?!”

“Seeing what Mark can do under duress.” Ellie smiled at Joan’s bound hands scrabbling to pry Ellie’s off her throat. “I’d tell you to excuse yourself, but it turns out you’re actually needed.”

Owen’s face felt as pale as Joan’s looked. Moments later, Joan slumped in her seat. Ellie kept her supported, continuing her stranglehold on Joan’s throat. When she was satisfied, she pulled Joan out of her chair and lay her neatly on the floor.

“Wha—” Mark went white. “Did you—You killed her! You fucking killed her!”

“Mark, I need you to listen to me.” Ellie grasped his chin so he was looking at her instead of Joan’s body. “I’m going to walk out of the room, and your restraints will unlock. If you want Joan to recover from this, you need to get down on the floor and have sex with her.”

“I—What?!”

“We’ve dosed you with Viagra, which should make it a little easier.”

“No! I’m not—I can’t—no!!!”

“Your choice.” Ellie shrugged and walked off. “It’s the only way to save her. You have 20 minutes before she suffers permanent brain damage and cell death.”

“No, no, no.”

“Owen, make sure he does as he’s told.”

The door closed behind Ellie. Mark’s restraints unlocked automatically, and he slid out of his seat.

“Joanie.” He crawled over to her and touched her face. “God, Joanie, no…” He hugged her tightly, apparently too shocked to even cry.

“Mark,” Owen said. “I know you’re upset. I’m upset too. But you _have to_ do what Ellie says if you want her to be okay.”

“I don’t… I don’t think I can.”

“Yes, you can.”

“How?!” Mark demanded. “WHY?! There’s not even another atypical here!”

“There is. I promise.  Just try, Mark.”

This was so wrong. The AM did plenty of things that were questionable, but this crossed so many lines. Owen didn’t know if he could live with himself if he helped force Mark to rape his sister’s corpse. But he said nothing as Mark wiped snot onto his sleeve and pushed his scrubs down.

“I’m so sorry, Joanie,” Mark whispered, kissing Joan’s cheek. “I’m so, so sorry. Fuck. Please forgive me.”

Owen watched the clock as Mark tried to get hard enough to complete his mission. Mark finally entered her, almost five minutes after Joan’s collapse, but he barely lasted a minute before slipping out again.

“Fuck!” Mark smacked his forehead in frustration.

“You need to hurry and get back to it.” Ellie’s disapproving voice came over the intercom. “You need to finish inside her, Mark. And fast.”

“I can’t.” Mark ground his teeth. “I can’t. I’m so sorry, Joanie, I can’t.” He broke down and cried into the collar of Joan’s blazer.  “I love you, Joanie, I’m sorry, I tried, I can’t, I’m sorry...”

Owen knelt between Joan’s legs and shook Mark. “Move,” he said. “I’ll help you.”

Mark scrambled out of the way. “What do we do?” he asked.

Owen leaned forward to kiss Joan's neck. He inhaled deeply, and the smell of her skin brought him to half-mast. He brushed his lips against hers and realized his mouth was dry. No good. He swallowed a few times, working moisture back into his mouth, and then he kissed her deeply. It wouldn’t save her, but a taste of his saliva definitely wouldn’t hurt. He had his suspicions that the princes in Sleeping Beauty and Snow White were based on Class C atypicals, maybe even his distant ancestors. But their princesses had only been in comas, or perhaps the atypical ability had been stronger once upon a time. Whatever the case, there was only one way Owen knew to revive someone who was truly dead.

“Do you know how to do CPR?” Owen asked Mark.

“I—Yeah, kind of?”

Owen positioned Mark’s hands on Joan’s chest. “Not too deep,” he instructed. “Maybe two inches. One, two, three, four. Show me.”

“One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. What about the breathing?”

“No breathing. There’s still air in her lungs, and too much ventilation is worse than not quite enough right now. The compressions are the important thing. Don’t stop them. One, two, three, four.”

While Mark compressed Joan’s heart, Owen unzipped his pants and stroked himself mechanically.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Mark asked, watching Owen out of the corner of his eye.

“Exactly what you think.” Owen set his jaw.

“Okay, but _why?_ ”

“I’m an atypical, a Class C healer with limited death reversal skills. Just like nearly everyone in my family for as far back as we have records. You keep doing CPR to minimize the damage; I’m going to bring Joan back.”

“Welp.” Mark pushed his hands into Joan’s chest. “I’ve heard of weirder. Probably. Man, I fuckin’ hate this place.”

Owen forced himself to focus. This was no different than any of the times she’d chugged two aspirin and three glasses of malbec and asked him to “work his magic” to cure her migraine. She’d always told him to keep going if she passed out, and she’d always been in such a good mood when she woke up the next morning. If she’d suspected anything other than her body’s own natural neurotransmitters were responsible for making her feel better, she’d never mentioned it. Just because she was unconscious now (yes, 'unconscious' was the best way to think about it, he decided), just because she wasn’t able to consent…

Owen stopped and took a deep breath. This was life or death. He would never, ever rape Joan if he could avoid it. He loved her. And that was why he had to do this awful thing to her, just for a minute. The sooner he finished, the sooner he could stop. And the less brain damage she’d have.

He pushed her knees back, stroking them comfortingly. Her legs were already cooling. God, Owen had sworn he’d never do this again, but… it was Joan…

Her twitching leg startled him; the post-mortem twitches always surprised him, even after all this time. He took another deep breath and found his way inside her. At least she was still warm where it counted.

He’d missed this so much. That it was happening again under these circumstances was too cruel to even think about.

“A little slower,” Owen said to Mark. “One, two, three, four.”

Mark nodded and adjusted.

Owen began thrusting, his pace a little slower than Mark’s. Every movement forced a spurt out of her relaxed bladder against his skin. But Owen, normally squeamish about bodily fluids, was in full caretaker mode. He loved Joan too much to care about anything like that. He knew how to do this, how to armor his mind so he could save someone. He’d done it before, in far more gruesome circumstances, for people about whom he cared significantly less.

“Come on, Joanie,” Mark was muttering. “Please, Joanie.”

Owen squeezed his eyes shut tighter, imagining how Joan would react when she awoke to find him inside her. Maybe she’d be confused but then happy, thinking the horror of the past few weeks had been a bad dream and she was waking up in Owen’s bed again. Maybe she’d wrap her legs around him and moan and say she loved him.

It was a total fantasy, of course. She would react with as much horror as anyone else—screaming, crying, begging him to stop. And he would, of course. Of course he would, as soon as he could, of course, of course. But the fantasy of it being different, just this once, kept him going.

He wrapped her cold legs around him for her, rubbing his hands up and down her thighs to warm her up. She’d been cold like this a few months ago when they’d gone camping and she’d fallen off the pier. He’d started a fire for her and made her a cup of that apple cider she loved so much, the kind he didn’t like but always kept on hand for her. He had stripped them both naked and climbed into the sleeping bag with her to warm her up, spooning her and kissing her neck and making love to her until she felt warm and whole again. She’d been so happy, curled up against him. That was when he’d decided to ask her to marry him. He’d bought the ring and everything. And then she’d walked into Tier Five and seen Mark…

Happy thoughts. He had to think happy thoughts.

When she was all right again, they would do this properly, with all the kissing and gazing and murmuring. Maybe he would bite her in a few of her favorite places for scaring him like this. Yes, a few love nibbles would be the best restitution. She would laugh when his teeth found that one ticklish place where her perfect breasts met her ribs, and it would be the sweetest sound he’d ever heard. He would tickle her to try to make her laugh more, even though he knew she wasn’t very ticklish, just because he loved hearing her laugh. Especially during sex. Like that one time, when he'd done his impression of Wadsworth while inside Joan, who had laughed so hard she couldn't breathe. Owen still went back there sometimes, usually around midnight with his hand slick to the wrist with lotion. He loved reliving the sheer delight on her normally impenetrable face, the lovely sound of her uncontrollable laughter, the rhythmic clenching around him as she thrashed in bed—

With a sigh of relief, Owen plunged in deep and finally released inside her. He pushed Mark’s hands away from Joan’s chest, instead giving him one of her knees to hold.

“We have to keep her hips tilted back until it works,” Owen said. “You can hold her hand and talk to her, though.”

Mark held Joan’s knee with one hand, immediately grabbing her hand with his other. “Joanie? It’s me, it’s Mark. I’m right here. Can you hear me? I’m right here, Joanie.”

Owen rubbed Joan’s leg, but he didn’t think it was appropriate for him to talk to her right then. He was still pulsing inside her, delivering that life-saving seed that would bring her back. The pleasure of his orgasm was completely chilled by the reality of the situation rushing back to him.

“Joanie, please. You have to wake up.” Mark kissed Joan’s hand. “Come on.”

“Stop,” Joan whispered.

“What?”

Joan kicked her leg. “Stop it! Stop—”

“It’s me,” Owen said. “I’m so sorry, Joan. I’ll stop as soon as I can.”

Joan’s hand reached down to push him away, but Mark took it.

“It’s okay, Joanie. He did it to save you. He’s an atypical. I was supposed to, but—” Mark broke down, hiding his face in her neck. “Jesus, fuck, I’m so sorry, Joanie.”

“Mark.” She touched his face. “It’s not your fault.”

The medical team burst in, placing ice packs on Joan’s head and neck and chest. Joan was too weak to even shiver. They slid a stretcher underneath her and hoisted her up, out of the room. Mark tried to follow but was pushed back.

“Will she be okay?” Mark asked.

Owen checked his watch. Thirteen minutes without a heartbeat.

“She should be more or less unscathed,” he said. _Physically, anyway_ , he thought. _Just like you and I…_

Mark collapsed onto the floor, covering his face with his hands. “Fuck.”

“Indeed,” Owen said.

Ellie stood at the door, watching the two of them.

 _“Fuck” indeed_.


End file.
